I looked with interest at the momentary softening of that obdurate heart.

I felt inclined to say a few earnest words.

Alas! my well-meant sympathy only gave offence.

"What do you mean by pitying me ?" she asked in a bitter whisper, as she passed to the door.

"Don't you see how happy I am?
I'm going to the flower-show, Clack; and I've got the prettiest bonnet in London." She completed the hollow mockery of that address by blowing me a kiss--and so left the room.
I wish I could describe in words the compassion I felt for this miserable and misguided girl.